


Darkness Falling

by HalfshellVenus



Series: Paradise [11]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: Community: fanfic100, M/M, Male Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 22:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4323357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfshellVenus/pseuds/HalfshellVenus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Escape, established relationship. How much can be certain or lasting?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darkness Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://fanfic100.livejournal.com/profile)[fanfic100](http://fanfic100.livejournal.com/) challenge, where I have the slash pairing of Lincoln/Michael. This is prompt #32, “Sunset.”

x-x-x-x-x

The bathroom mirror is foggy, and Michael opens a window to release the shower steam into the cool air of morning. He has an errand to run today, and no desire to draw undue attention. He’ll shave and get dressed, and by the time he arrives he’ll look like any city clerk or storekeeper out on an early lunch.

He uses a towel to reveal his reflection, and the eyes staring back at him are the only part he knows. He has grown his hair for their life in hiding, in a way he never wears it, and he is surprised every time he sees it. He no longer looks like himself. He no longer feels like himself, in this new house and town and with a reinvented life. There is no more Michael for the outside world to see.

He finishes quickly, slipping back into the bedroom to get his clothes. Lincoln is still sleeping, but stirs a little when the closet door creaks. He watches Michael gather his clothes. “You don’t have to get dressed on my account,” he says, and Michael can hear the teasing in his voice. Lincoln’s eyes are taking in his brother’s naked form, and Michael is both embarrassed and pleased by the attention. “Going somewhere today?”

Michael rummages through the dresser for underwear and socks. “I’ve got to go into the city. I need to check on our status and get some money.” Michael pulls on a button-down long-sleeved shirt that hides his tattoos, and checks his watch.

“You’ll be careful?” Lincoln asks. It’s not really a question, but Michael knows Lincoln worries. They’re vulnerable, both of them, but Michael is easily the more identifiable of the two. If he were pressed, he’d have to admit that a full upper-body tattoo was not the wisest choice for a soon-to-be fugitive. But he can’t undo it now, and he can hate himself for it later.

“I might be back late,” Michael says, shrugging into a jacket. He takes his keys and wallet off the dresser, and Lincoln catches his arm to pull him down. “Be good,” he says, and draws Michael in for a kiss.

“You’re making it hard to leave.” Michael smiles as Lincoln’s hands squeeze his arms and come around to rock him gently. Some days they never leave the bed, but sadly this will not be one of them. “Got to go,” he whispers against Lincoln’s hair, and his kiss is one of regret. Lincoln is already settling back on one arm to watch Michael edge out the door, and the lazy pleasure written in his posture almost gives Michael second thoughts.

It is after dinnertime when Michael returns. There is no change in their status, but he has wired some more cash from offshore and that will hold them for awhile. The house is quiet as he drives up, and empty as he goes inside.

He grabs a bite to eat, looking over the newspaper and waiting for Lincoln. But it’s nearly nine o’clock when he finishes, and his brother has not returned.

Michael starts to worry. They don’t have cell phones, because the calls are too easily tapped and traced, and there is no note waiting on the counter. Lincoln could be goofing off somewhere, but if he’s been picked up by the police how would Michael know?

He squints for a moment, thinking. Pick the most obvious place and eliminate it, and work backward from there until he finds Lincoln. And if he doesn’t… he’ll come back to the house and work up a new strategy.

He checks the beach down below the house, knowing that Lincoln would probably already have come back as soon as he saw the lights signal Michael’s return. Sure enough, Lincoln isn’t down there.

It’s late, so a bar is the next best guess. There are several little taverns in town, and a couple of nicer places as well. Lincoln favors one of the newer spots, which has two televisions and well-priced drinks.

Michael is there in five minutes, trying to think of where he’ll look next if Lincoln isn’t there. He tries not to get too far ahead of himself, not to start on the road to panic. He steps up to the window, scanning the room inside.

Lincoln, sitting at the bar with a sultry blond, has too many drinks inside him and his smile is far too ready. Lincoln, all too clearly, is fine.

The same cannot be said for Michael. He stumbles back from the window and turns to lean against the outer wall, his head buzzing with disorientation. All thought is frozen as he struggles with the need to _breathe_ , and the roaring in his ears is deafening. His eyes roam the sky, now turning purple in the sunset.

Darkness is falling, in the air and in his heart.

  


_\----- fin -----_


	2. Keeping His Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Escape, established relationship. Follows directly after "Darkness Falling."  
> Michael cannot outrun the clouds gathering over the relationship he has with Lincoln.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge, where I have the slash pairing of Lincoln and Michael. This is for prompt #70, “Storm.

x-x-x-x-x

Michael stumbled out of the parking lot, leaving Lincoln and the blond woman to finish their flirtation. Or their mating dance, if it came to that-- and he really couldn’t stand thinking along those lines any farther.

He headed down to the ocean, needing to calm down—to think—before going back to the house. The beach was dark and empty now, the waves hypnotic and soothing. He took his shoes off, as he so rarely did, and wandered in and out of the edges of the pooling tide. The moon shone brightly overhead, the sole witness to all the pieces of him that were missing.

He’d known it was possible, always known it, though he’d been unable to keep himself from hoping. If he were being honest, he even knew that it was likely—maybe even inevitable. All those things that made Lincoln irresistible worked on other people just as well as they did on him. And Lincoln himself was drawn to the ladies—too many of them, too often. Always. Men were not his preference, or even second choice, and when you added in the fact that the man in question was his own brother… Michael knew all too well that Lincoln didn’t like it when things got complicated.

He sat down a little farther from the water, watching the moonlight weaving through the waves. He could not hide down here forever. Sooner or later, he would have to brave the emotional battle to come.

He breathed and waited, gathering his strength. Finally, he stood up and brushed himself off, pulling his shoes back on and heading up to the house. Better to be prepared. Better to have a plan before Lincoln showed up, whether that was tonight or tomorrow or days down the road.

~*~

The lights were still off at home, and Michael felt absurdly relieved. He stood in the small living room, surveying his options, and quickly found the line between what he could deal with and what he couldn’t. Lincoln, in the same bed with him after what Michael had seen, would be altogether too much. Michael pulled an extra sheet and pillow out of the hall closet, and a couple of blankets, and made up the couch. He figured that locking the bedroom door would be a clear enough message if Lincoln got home later in the night.

He dug out the rum that they kept for mixed drinks, and downed a glass of it for his sanity and his nerves. He brushed his teeth and took some aspirin, and was turning on the living room lamp by the sofa when the front door opened. 

His stomach clenched over the alcohol inside it, and he turned away to gather his composure. It was too late to bolt into the bedroom, and that was a coward’s choice anyway. He schooled himself to calmness, readying himself to face his brother.

The hand that clapped him on the shoulder made him jump, and he backed away from Lincoln’s boisterous greeting.

“You were gone forever today,” Lincoln said.

Michael’s gaze flicked down toward the floor. “Not entirely,” he said.

‘Well, you hadn’t come back by dinnertime, so I decided to go out for awhile instead of waiting around here.” Lincoln seemed to take notice of the edgy look on Michael’s face. “Probably should have left a note,” he mumbled as an afterthought.

Michael kept his voice as even as possible. No nagging, no accusations. “That would’ve been a good idea,” he said lightly. “I wasn’t sure whether something had happened, and I had to go out looking for you.”

“Oh, yeah? I was down at the Riptide.”

“Yes,” Michael said simply. “I saw you through the window, talking to some blonde woman.”

“Yeah. She was pretty nice. I liked her a lot.”

Michael gritted his teeth and looked away. He had seen enough blowups with Lincoln and his girlfriends to know that drama and histrionics would drive his brother away like _that._ He was not going to get all girly about this and throw his dignity after his heart. He would hate himself for it, and it would only make things worse.

Lincoln had edged around to the side to try to get Michael’s attention again. “She said she had a sister. Thought you might like to meet her.”

Michael didn’t even look up. “Lincoln, if you try to set me up with her, or anyone else, I may kill you in your sleep,” he said flatly.

“What?” 

“I am not in the market for dating. At all.” Trust Lincoln to make him say it, to define what should have been obvious.

It was then that Lincoln finally noticed the made-up sofa behind his brother.

“Are we having company?”

Michael couldn’t quite contain a noise of exasperation. He spun on his heel and headed into the kitchen for another crack at the rum.

Lincoln followed right behind him, too quick and too close. He grabbed Michael’s arm, turning him around and backing him up against the counter. “I have the feeling I’m missing something here.” His confusion was evident, and that made it all even harder.

“Lincoln…” Michael began. He had nowhere to move, and finally settled on putting his hands on Lincoln’s chest and pushing him back. He caught his gaze, and pled his case. “I know we haven’t talked about this relationship over the long-term, and I guess I just didn’t want to force the issue before I had to. But what we have is… real, and so amazing. And for me, it’s complete—just the way it is.” Michael swallowed, and looked away. “But I’ve never just assumed that you felt the same way. I don’t know what this is for you—whether it’s good for now, good for awhile, or just… convenient.”

Lincoln’s grip on Michael’s arms tightened. “Wait a minute—where is this coming from? Was it that woman at the bar?” He ducked his head around to where he could catch his brother’s eyes.

“Michael. I didn’t sleep with her. I wasn’t _planning_ on sleeping with her.”

Michael felt the slightest lessening in the tightness around his heart, but didn’t let down his guard. “I wasn’t trying to say that you did,” he said softly. “But it seemed… that the possibility might have occurred to you. From what I saw.” He took a deep breath, and kept on going. “I think we need to step back a little. Give you some time to figure out what you want to be doing. Who you want to be doing it with.”

Lincoln’s tone was annoyed. “What makes you think I need that? Did I say I wanted a change?”

Michael’s voice was quiet. “No. But I think _I_ need you to be sure. More sure than I saw tonight.”

“I didn’t do anything! I was just talking!”

Michael’s touch had softened. “Lincoln. I don’t want _my_ needs and _my_ desires to make your choice for you. I need to take myself out of this equation for you to see this whole thing clearly.”

“And what, you want me to sleep on the couch now?”

“For awhile. Until you know.”

Lincoln shifted sideways, crossing his arms. “And how long will that be?”

“I don’t know. At least a few days. Maybe longer. We’ll both know when you’ve figured it out.”

That tightness was forming around Lincoln’s eyes again, and his mouth had hardened. “All right. For you, I’ll do it. For awhile. But I still don’t think it’s necessary.”

“It’s important to me. This—us— _matters_ to me. If I have to let it go, I want some warning.”  
.  
Michael’s eyes were too bright, and Lincoln understood what he was seeing more than what he was hearing.

He nodded his head, and pulled Michael to him gently, pressing the softest of kisses against his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Me too,” Michael whispered. He brushed his hand over the side of Lincoln’s face, and then he was slipping away, across the room.

Lincoln could only watch in silence then as the bedroom door drifted shut.

 

_\----- fin -----_


	3. No Soft Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-escape, established relationship. Follows directly after Keeping His Distance. This was not the day Lincoln expected to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the fanfic100 challenge, where I have the slash pairing of Lincoln and Michael. This is for prompt #2, “Middles.”

x-x-x-x-x

The couch was lumpy and damned uncomfortable, and Lincoln was awake half the night struggling to get comfortable and wondering what the hell was going on in Michael’s head.

They’d had a great time yesterday. A late morning, waking to the soft brush of Michael’s hair on his chest. Those slender fingers had drawn reverent paths along his shoulders and face, and they’d made slow, sweet love while the sun climbed in the sky.

Breakfast became brunch when they were finally ready, and they’d eaten on the porch while watching the waves.

Later, they’d worked on the porch railing, replacing the loose spindles and a decaying side rail. It was something to do, and even though they were just renting the house it was satisfying. They might be here for months-- or years-- and these small investments of themselves made the whole experience a little more personal.

Making dinner that night, Lincoln had hindered Michael more than anything. Tracing his hands over Michael’s as he washed lettuce, kissing that elegant neck and slipping his arms around his brother’s waist, Lincoln had enjoyed all of it far more than the meal that eventually followed.

Candlelit luxury had ended the evening in bed, with unhurried exploration of each other’s contours and desires. Curving together afterwards, they had drifted into that state where it was too much to remember where one of them left off and the other began. 

All of that, Lincoln thought, had been as perfect a day as he’d had in a lifetime. And this morning, he’d kissed Michael goodbye knowing that they’d spend today apart, but that tomorrow would be another opportunity for something close to that kind of soft, easy communion. 

Instead, he’d come home to all hell breaking loose inside of Michael. He never even saw it coming. 

He’d gone out near the end of the day, when waiting for Michael had gotten to be too much, and he’d hung out at the bar talking to various people. He never told them much about himself, but just enjoyed the feeling of being able to leave if he wanted to, come and go as he pleased, have contact with people who weren’t looking to do something to him or get something from him. Pleasant conversation was in short supply in the Pen, and Death Row had been so unendingly grim and isolated. 

He’d met a commercial fisherman who’d talked about his boat a lot, and a nice woman who temped as an office worker. And then he’d caught sight of the clock, and thought that surely Michael must have come back. So he’d paid up and walked on home, with the evening air drifting across his skin.

His heart had lifted at the sight of the car, and his thoughts were already on soft sheets and pillow talk when he opened the door. But something was off, he could tell by the set of Michael’s shoulders. There was something broken in that posture, and his brother avoided his eyes. Lincoln couldn’t quite get ahold of what was going on until words with edgy sounds started making it through. Then suddenly Michael was talking about dating—or not dating—and stepping back from what they were doing, and there was so much fragility and fear in those beautiful eyes.

He’d found himself reacting more to Michael’s pain than anything, and clearly nothing he could do right then was going to fix it. So he’d agreed to what Michael thought he wanted, and now… here he was.

The couch was stiff under his aching back, and his thoughts were troubled. Secluded off in the bedroom, his brother was hurting and uncertain. But even if he went in there right now, his apologies and reassurances would not be heard. 

On opposite sides of the door each was longing for the other. 

If either of them slept tonight, it would not be restful.

 

_\----- fin -----_


	4. Waiting For Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lincoln struggles to make himself heard against Michael’s conviction that he will ultimately leave for a better offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-Escape, Established Relationship. This follows directly after “No Soft Tomorrow.” Written for the fanfic100 challenge, where I have the slash pairing of Lincoln and Michael, this is for prompt #86, “Choices.”

x-x-x-x-x

Lincoln woke to the sound of the shower running. His entire body ached, and his head felt like he’d been hit with a brick. He stared at the ceiling awhile, remembering the confusion of the previous night, and … his head hurt all over again. Michael had decided—for both of them, apparently—that more thinking was in order on Lincoln’s part. So given how great things had been between them, how close they had become in this private paradise, what _exactly_ was he supposed to be thinking about?

There was nothing like being blindsided, and Michael could do it to him every time.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his hands through his hair. He could practically see the eggshell path laid out before him that these next few days or weeks were going to be taking. 

It was enough to make a man go right back to bed and stay there.

~*~

Michael slipped right into the bedroom without even looking his way, and after a few minutes of staring at the closed door Lincoln decided not to push. He took his own shower, and the bedroom was empty by the time he needed some clothes.

He dressed and went into the kitchen. It, too, was empty. He appeared to be the only one home right now. So this was how it would begin. Avoidance and awkwardness and god knew how he was going to start putting all this right again. 

Michael was still gone all through a slow breakfast and two cups of coffee. Lincoln was getting edgy. He didn’t like how things were going and there was nothing he could do about it right that second. Damned if he was going to sit around for hours and wait for the other shoe to drop. He put his dishes in the sink and headed down to the beach. He could walk it off, even run if he wanted to, and see where things lay when he got back.

~*~

After blowing off some steam for awhile, Lincoln came up through town about half a mile down the beach, and wandered through the neighboring streets before getting back to the house. The car was back. He wondered if Michael would be home, or if he’d slipped out onto the beach himself to further delay any chance for them to talk to each other.

He entered the house quietly. Maybe he’d caught Michael by surprise. His brother was out on the back porch, probably expecting Lincoln to come up from the beach below. 

Enough dodging around. Lincoln went out the back door and leaned back against it, taking in the situation. There was his brother, a beer, and there were a couple of small bowls on the floor.

“What’s that?” he said.

“Cat food.” Michael’s gaze was fixed out at sea.

“I can see that. I mean, why?”

“There’s a cat that comes around here sometimes, that doesn’t look like it has a home. I like it.”

Lincoln frowned. “ _Skunks_ like cat food, too.”

Michael’s face was bland. “I can tell them apart.”

Lincoln started to roll his eyes at that, but noticed the corner of Michael’s mouth starting to turn up. “You just like fucking with me, don’t you?”

Michael’s face clouded over immediately, and his smile was humorless. “You _know_ I do.”

God, he’d walked right into that one. “You’re not the only one that enjoys that, Michael.” His kept his voice quiet, and tried to let the sincerity speak for itself. 

“It’s not a question of enjoying it, Lincoln. That part’s pretty obvious. But it’s more than that for me. This is something I _need_. And I’m not sure it’s at all like that for you.”

“Why would you think I don’t need it too?”

“Well, I’m not talking about needing sex. Everybody needs that. I’m talking about an emotional need to be with me.”

“But I _am_ with you. I like being with you. I guess I really don’t see where all this doubt is coming from.”

Michael sighed. “It’s like this: I still think that if something came by—or someone—that you liked better, you could walk away like _that_. And for me, there’s no chance for there to _be_ anyone better. This was all I ever wanted anyway. I’m not waiting for a silver lining— for me, this is it. This is already better than anything I’ve ever had.”

“So you think I don’t love you enough.” That had to be it, Lincoln thought. 

“I don’t know,” Michael said quietly. “Maybe it’s not a question of how much. Maybe it’s a question of how real this is to you—and how real it can continue to be.”

Lincoln’s head was starting to hurt. This had the makings of so many impenetrable conversations he’d had with Michael over the years. _Real. Not real. What was the question again?_ “Do you… think I’m confused about whether this is happening?” he asked. _God, please let it not be philosophy. I’m not up for wrangling through that right now._

Michael looked at him kind of strangely. “I mean, have you thought about what happens when we get back to the regular world? Will we keep trying to be together? How will we manage that?”

Okay. This, he got. “First of all, we might decide we like it here. We might choose _not_ to go back. Second, no matter where we are, what’s to stop us from going forward? We could find a place to live together, and it wouldn’t be anyone else’s business.”

“What about LJ?” Michael asked. “And people coming over? They’re bound to guess at some point that we’re a couple.”

“Get extra bedrooms, pretend to use the one we don’t need. People have been doing that for centuries. It doesn’t have to be that complicated.”

“But would you feel comfortable living like that? Hiding out forever?”

“Compared to a cage with bars and nothing to look forward to but a date with The Chair? Yeah, I think I can manage that.” And Lincoln realized he might have gone a little too far there. Michael’s face had frozen. He tried to backtrack. “Okay… that came out wrong.”

“You think?” Michael stood up abruptly and started down the steps, his movements stiff and unbalanced.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Lincoln chased after him and caught him by the arm briefly before Michael jerked away. “Michael!” he said. “Stop, please—don’t run off in the middle of this.”

Michael’s jaw was clenched, and Lincoln was just making everything worse. “You’re a fine person to talk about running out on things.”

“What? Is this about when I moved in with Lisa? We had a baby coming, Michael. I had to do that.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. You were ‘gone’ long before you left our house. Not always, and not every day, but mentally you’d checked out years before that.”

Lincoln sighed. It wasn’t like he’d ever expected Michael to forget about that, or even to forgive him, but—“You have no idea how much I regret that. Really. I’m sorry I didn’t do more all those years ago.” He touched Michael’s shoulder gently. “I’d like to think I’ve learned something since then.”

Michael still wouldn’t look at him. “All right. Can you tell me this, then: if Veronica were to come here and tell you she wanted the two of you to be together again… can you be sure you wouldn’t be tempted by that? Because if not, well, I kind of want to know that now. Where did you really want to be spending the rest of your life? Who did you want to spend it _with_?”

Lincoln thought about it for a moment, about everything Veronica was. She’d been his missed opportunity for so long, the “almost” he’d finally found after their earliest attempts had failed. He’d loved her too soon, back when they were just too young—when _he_ was too young—and he’d wasted his chances chasing after other girls without realizing that that might just be an unforgivable thing. She’d never quite trusted him after that—and she was right not to. He’d flown from Lisa’s bed to hers and back again, pushing her love and every perfect part of her farther and farther away. 

Part of him had always hoped there could be a time when it would all come together for the two of them, when it would finally be lasting and right. 

Looking at that dream now, against the backdrop of these last few months with Michael, he saw the reality he’d never admitted. There had been love and inescapable desire, and yet they’d never really meshed outside the bedroom. Always pulling in different directions, with so many wrong moves and wrong motives, their words had crossed and collided without end. Their love had never been at rest for very long. That fantasy of living with a single heart in a shared life… was never meant to be. Beyond the blame of sexual distractions, there was a reason why Lincoln had never stayed. It was simply that the combination of the two of them had failed to persuade him.

In this short time he’d had with Michael, it was all so different. They’d been closer and more completely paired than he’d ever been with anyone. They had a shared depth of love that went beyond the bonds of brotherhood. Even with old irritations and conflicts— and misunderstandings like the one that had led them to today’s uncomfortable state—there was the willingness and the need to try. The drive to heal, to return to balance, propelled them together again and again. It was more than comfort and companionship. It was _completion_. And it was staring him in the face.

“No,” he answered.

Michael looked confused. “No to what?” 

“No, I’m not waiting for Veronica. And she is definitely not what I’m looking for. Not anymore.” 

The words tumbled unexpectedly out of Michael’s mouth. “But—why not?” 

“Because…” and Lincoln moved closer, gently reaching for Michael’s arm again. “I can see now that something was always missing with her. Something basic and important that I didn’t even have a name for.” He stroked Michael’s arm softly, his fingers brushing over those tattooed images of death and damnation… and devotion. “You bring me so much happiness, so much peace. You make me more than I am. And all I have to do is love you in return.” His hand flowed up Michael’s shoulder and neck to gently brush over those flushed and waiting cheeks. “Even a guy like me can tell that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

Michael’s eyes were so large and lost, his mind still trailing a few words behind what Lincoln had said. The kiss arrived before the meaning that foretold it, and still he succumbed to it like everything about his brother he was never able to resist. He lifted and opened instantly, and then threw his arms around Lincoln in a crushing embrace when he finally realized what had been said. 

Underneath everything he had expected to hear, Lincoln’s choice had not been _No_.

Unbelievably and impossibly… the answer was _Yes_.

 

_\-------- fin --------_


End file.
